“Who will believe you, Isabel?” said Angelo; “my unsoiled name, the austereness of my life, my word vouched against yours, will outweigh your accusation. Redeem your brother by yielding to my will, or he shall die to-morrow. As for you, say what you can, my false will overweigh your true story. Answer me to-morrow.” “To whom should I complain? Did I tell this, who would believe me?” said Isabel, as she went toward the dreary prison where her brother was confined. When she arrived there her brother was in pious conversation with the duke, who in his friar’s habit had also visited Juliet and brought both these guilty lovers to a proper sense of their fault; and unhappy Juliet with tears and a true remorse confessed that she was more to blame than Claudio, in that she willingly consented to his dishonorable solicitations. As Isabel entered the room where Claudio was confined, she said, “Peace be here, grace, and good company!” “Who is there?” said the disguised duke. “Come in; the wish deserves a welcome.” “My business is a word or two with Claudio,” said Isabel. Then the duke left them together, and desired the provost who had the charge of the prisoners to place him where he might overhear their conversation. “Now, sister, what is the comfort?” said Claudio. Isabel told him he must prepare for death on the morrow. “Is there no remedy?” said Claudio. “Yes, brother,” replied Isabel, “there is; but such a one as if you consented to it would strip your honor from you and leave you naked.” “Let me know the point,” said Claudio. “Oh, I do fear you, Claudio!” replied his sister; “and I quake, lest you should wish to live, and more respect the trifling term of six or seven winters added to your life than your perpetual honor! Do you dare to die? The sense of death is most in apprehension, and the poor beetle that we tread upon feels a pang as great as when a giant dies.” “Why do you give me this shame?” said Claudio. “Think you I can fetch a resolution from flowery tenderness? If I must die, I will encounter darkness as a bride and hug it in my arms.” “There spoke my brother,” said Isabel; “there my father’s grave did utter forth a voice! Yes, you must die; yet would you think it, Claudio, this outward sainted deputy, if I would yield to him my virgin honor, would grant your life? Oh, were it but my life, I would lay it down for your deliverance as frankly as a pin!” “Thanks, dear Isabel,” said Claudio. “Be ready to die to-morrow,” said Isabel. “Death is a fearful thing,” said Claudio. “And shamed life a hateful,” replied his sister. But the thoughts of death now overcame the constancy of Claudio’s temper, and terrors, such as the guilty only at their deaths do know, assailing him, he cried out: “Sweet sister, let me live! The sin you do to save a brother’s life, nature dispenses with the deed so far that it becomes a virtue.”